


Endgame

by thetidesisrising



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergance, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Liz still has unresolved issues, Romance, Season 7 AU, anxious! liz, over protective! liz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26797501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetidesisrising/pseuds/thetidesisrising
Summary: Divergence from 7x19 - As Reddington and Katerina's final showdown draws near, Liz is faced with an impossible decision as she remains torn between the pair. Turning to Ressler to help her choose, she must navigate their changing relationship whilst battling her inner demons. When Ressler is thrown into the crosshairs, she and the task force embark upon a journey that will change the tone of the taskforce forever.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen & Donald Ressler, Elizabeth Keen & Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen - Relationship, Elizabeth Keen/Donald Ressler
Comments: 29
Kudos: 147





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!! And welcome to my first multi-chapter extravaganza. If you're new here, welcome, if you're not, you know what time it is. The angst queen has returned and is better than ever. I also have almost completely finished this story, so for once in my life I will not leave you all hanging at the end. :)) Please read and review and I hope you all enjoy!!

Her brown hair glimmered in the moonlight as she approached the apartment building, her black purse clutched tightly to her chest. Her heels clacked heavily against the pavement – thunder against a stormy backdrop. Her dark hair illuminated against the streetlights – she looked like an agent of death. As she approached her intended destination, she hung her head, dark waves marring her features. She slowly climbed the complex’s stairs, suppressing a shudder as she clutched her trench closer to her body. Usually, the darkness was an old friend – an accomplice in both her dreams and exploits. Now, however, the night was seeped with a lingering sense of betrayal. No matter how desperately she sought to scrub its filth, darkness seemed inevitable – the two of them intertwined like a double helix.

Finally, she reached her destination, her knuckles rising to rapt on the door before her. A low rustle to her left drew her attention for a moment, but upon discovering that it was an old man leaving his apartment she relaxed minutely, well aware that her enemies would stop at nothing to use complacency against her.

The door before her squeaked open, jolting her back to awareness. Her visage melted upon meeting his warm face, her lips spreading into a genuine smile.

“Ress,” she said fondly, stepping in the doorway to hug him.

He reciprocated the embrace in kind, his breath hovering hotly against her ear. Warmth flooded her – its glow reaching the crevices of her toes.

“I got you your favorite,” he greeted once he released her, closing the door behind them.

Her smile grew wider, and she suppressed the urge to kiss his cheek. Instead, she glanced up at him, her eyes crescent moons.

“Thank you!”

She shed her coat as they moved closer to his living room, flinging her purse onto the dining table. She turned to him, a question poised on her tongue, but he waved his hand in dismissal. She sighed playfully, poising herself on his sectional.

“I almost didn’t know where to go,” she began, once he handed her a glass of chianti. “But, then I recalled something about a tiny island of calm.”

He chuckled lightly, raising his beer to his lips in a silent salute.

“I hope you packed a bag,” he jested, “because this could be considered to be an all-inclusive five-day vacation.”

She quirked her left brow, intrigued.

“Really? What beach would you have us visiting, Mr. Ressler?”

He pretended to consider the thought, a calculating look in his eyes.

“Costa Rica is sounding awfully good right about now. Isn’t it usually ranked one of the happiest places in the world?”

Liz laughed jovially.

“I’m sure Agnes would adore that.”

Ressler grinned, his gaze fond.

“Speaking of the little ballerina, how is she?”

Liz stilled. She took a steep swig of her wine to calm her nerves.

“She’s with Scottie,” Liz confessed, her voice low. “I just couldn’t bear the thought of her getting caught in this war between Reddington and my mother.”

Ressler nodded in sympathy, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Speaking of that, I assume that’s what you came here to talk to me about?”

She swallowed thickly, swirling her wine glass in her palm.

“I’m torn between them.”

She quickly filled Ressler in on the two sides, her tone inexorably conflicted as she debated the merits of each option. Although Ressler advocated for Katerina’s side earlier that day, he found himself warier of the decision once Liz elaborated on her mother’s rhetoric – it seemed as though the woman was obsessed with what happened to her, and would do whatever it takes to uncover the truth, no matter the consequences. The woman was dangerous – Ressler knew how tempting the truth could be.

Yet, Reddington was selfish too. He seemed incapable of telling Liz the truth, no matter how desperately one forced his hand. Liz was caught dead in the middle of a war between two titans – both concerned with matters of identity rather than humanity.

“My mother claims that she was falsely accused of stealing the Silkorsky Archive. It’s supposedly a blackmail file filled with compromising information about a lot of powerful people.”

Ressler smirked.

“Oh, so like the Fulcrum?”

She bit her lip to hide her hesitation – that had never occurred to her before.

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

Ressler appeared unimpressed.

“So, you’re telling me that your mother is using the same file, or maybe not, but one at least similar to it, to try and manipulate you into doing her bidding.”

He leaned back self-satisfied and took a swig of his beer.

“I’m sorry, I really wanted to fight for her but, it sounds awfully like somebody else we know.”

Liz chuckled darkly, shaking her head in an attempt to clear her head. She took another sip of her wine to hide her contemplation.

“I mean… do you really think?” she began, her voice low.

Ressler shrugged, his countenance flippant.

“I don’t see why we can’t consider that as a possibility.”

She sat in contemplation, quaintly sipping her wine as she considered the possible outcomes. Across from her, Ressler winced, his right hand running through his hair.

“Liz, I have something I need to tell you.”

He cleared his throat, his eyes flickering between her knees and the carpet.

“I have something on Reddington, something he doesn’t want you to know.”

She straightened, immediately on her guard.

“What do you mean?”

“When I was at his…field hospital,” he decided upon, the word sour in his mouth, “I came across his medical file.”

Liz put her hand up, taking a deep breath to control her ire.

“Liz, I –”

“No, wait.”

She sat eerily still, her brain calculating how they could use this information to their advantage. Ressler was in agony whilst she considered her options, his expression vacillating between dolor and contrition.

“As angry as I am that you kept this from me, I think we can use this to our advantage.”

Ressler balked in disbelief.

“So, you don’t want me to tell you?”

She shook her head vehemently.

“Normally, yes, but I think I can use this to force his hand.”

They plotted into the early hours of the morning, the pair finding themselves closing in on each other as each hour dawned. By the end, they were only a hair’s breadth apart, basking in each other’s shallow breathing. Serenity was intrinsic – this was the only place where they could cast aside their fictious selves like soiled garments.

“Do you think this is going to work?” Ressler asked, his voice tickling her nose.

She inhaled shakily, her hand clutching his.

“It has to.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Reddington meet, and Liz learns the hazy truth about her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Thank you so much for reviewing I literally appreciate it so much!!! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please keep engaging with the story, it brings me so much joy!!!
> 
> Also, I know that I'm hugely deriving from canon right now - this is because it wouldn't be the blacklist without some inexplicable turns. If anything feels unresolved, or that it doesn't add up in Reddington's explanation, it's supposed to feel that way. All will be revealed in due time. 
> 
> Lastly, there is a piece of this that includes dialogue from the show. I obviously do not own the Blacklist, and now that I'm done with the disclaimer, I hope you all enjoy!!!

The meeting was set for the next day.

After driving together to the post office, Ressler covered for her while she embarked upon her pilgrimage for the truth, meeting her potential adversary at his most recent hangout: the restaurant. When she stepped into the kitchen, she was accosted by garlic. The aroma wafted through every crevice of the room, coating the floors in decadence. For once, she arrived first; she leaned against the island as she stared at the clock, the steady ticking lulling her into serenity.

The game would end today.

How thrilled she was! It was not every day that one had information to upend Raymond Reddington’s persona. Really, she should have made Ressler bake a cake. She pulled out her phone to text him to pick one up from the bakery near the post office when she heard voices filtering in the doorway. She quickly hit send – adding a little winky face for effect – and stood up taller, smothering her expression into a perfect poker face.

The devil she knew oh-so-well walked through in the flesh, his coat’s collar much higher than usual. With his sickly pallor and black trench, he resembled Dracula more than he did the concierge of crime. She only hoped she could sway him to her cause before he sunk his teeth into her neck.

“Lizzy!” he beamed, draping his coat and scarf over Dembe’s waiting arm as he opened his arms in greeting.

Liz smiled politely, demurely nodding her head.

It would not do now to have him smell her doubt.

“To what do I owe the pleasure!?”

“I’m here for some answers,” she said, her tone level.

Reddington smiled his Cheshire smile and took a step towards her.

“We’ve been over this, Elizabeth. I’ve never lied to you, I’ve just, withheld some truths.”

Liz appeared profoundly unimpressed.

“Really? Well, I’m done with your lies. Either you tell me who actually stole the Silkorsky Archive or Ressler tells me about your little medical condition.”

To an untrained observer, he appeared collected – to Liz he seemed trapped. He swallowed thickly and raised his chin in defiance.

His laugh rang hollow.

"If you think that I’m going to tell you who stole that archive, Elizabeth, you must not really know me at all.”

Liz smiled as though she were a cat that caught the canary.

“I knew you would say that. Which is why I’m going to admit to you that my mother currently thinks I’m on her side. She told me that she did not steal the Archive, and that you know who actually has it. If you want to finally end this, and if you want to gain the edge over her that you so obviously crave, then your best bet is to reveal what you know.”

He appeared truly caught then, like a mouse who crept too close to the cheese. He sighed, defeatedly, his gaze dejected.

“I assume dear Donald has already enlightened you as to my condition, then?”

“Don’t try and distract me, but, yes. We don’t have any more secrets between us.”

She internally winced after the last few words left her mouth, and from the grin Reddington sported, she knew she was right to regret it.

“Agent Ressler…” he began, marinating the thought in his mind. “Interesting.”

Liz fought bravely to hide her blush, her nails pressing crescent moons into her palms.

“Stop trying to talk circles around me and just answer the damn question.”

Finally realizing that he was trapped, Reddington sighed deeply, taking a seat on the stool in front of her.

“Your mother did not steal the Silkorsky Archive,” he confessed, his gaze solemn.

Liz battled to control her emotions, grief and choler warring in her expression.

“Then why lie? Why kill so many people and keep it such a secret?”

“Because your father, the real Raymond Reddington, stole it. It’s why she killed him in the end.”

Liz sat in suffocating silence for a moment, heart pounding in disbelief.

“I don’t understand. I thought he died in the fire.”

Reddington’s eyes were solicitous – it became increasingly clear to her then that he did not want to keep this truth from her, but that he felt an obligation to. To whom, she did not know, but perhaps that could be uncovered at a later date. There was too much raw candor that needed to be borne for him to add any more painful blows.

“While it’s true that he died the night of the fire, it was not the flames that killed him. Once Katerina realized that Reddington stole the Archive, she turned on him. The two quarreled heavily, undoubtedly triggering your interest. This is where your recollection of that night begins.”

Liz’s confusion grew tenfold, her forehead wrinkling as she attempted to do the math.

“None of this makes any sense. I thought I shot Reddington.”

“You didn’t, she just wanted you to think that.”

Reddington leaned forward, his expression beseeching.

“Do you remember Dr. Orchard?”

A memory flashed before Liz’s vision, tenuous yet true:

" _Thank you for meeting me.”_

_Liz nodded grimly towards Dr. Orchard._

_“You said it was urgent?”_

_Orchard cleared her throat._

_“I don’t mean to alarm you,” she began, “but I thought you should know that during the RM Therapy, when you were under, I saw something.”_

_Liz’s eyes widened in concern._

_“So, what? What does that mean?”_

_“Based on how you responded Liz, I don’t think I’m the first one who’s looked into your memory.”_

_Liz vehemently shook her head._

_“No,” she stated with affirmation. “I’ve never been treated.”_

_Orchard looked at her sympathetically._

_“You may not remember,” she said. “You may have been very young. But I think someone may have tried to block your memory of that fire.”_

_Liz scoffed._

_“I didn’t make that up.”_

_Orchard frowned._

_“The people and the events may have been there, but in different roles. I know this is difficult to comprehend.”_

_“Are you telling me I may never know what really happened that night?” Liz asked, her eyes widening in realization._

_Orchard nodded gravely._

_“I’m telling you that the only people who could tell you what really happened are the people who want you to forget.”_

“She said that someone had looked into my memory before,” Liz recalled, her thoughts reeling. “At the time I thought it was you; I was almost even more certain it was you after I spoke to Dr. Krilov and he more or less confirmed it, but you’re telling me that it wasn’t you who manipulated my memories at all? It was my mother?”

Reddington nodded gravely.

“She manipulated your memories in an effort to protect herself. She couldn’t run the risk that you knew of the Archive, and she especially did not want you to remember that she killed your father. By warping the memories into your hands, by giving you the motive, she made sure that any alternative to the truth would seem unfathomable.”

Liz sat innately still, her ears ringing. How transient the truth proved to be – wisps of secrets floating away from her grasp the closer she approached. She swallowed, setting her jaw.

“What about the Fulcrum, then? How do you explain that?”

“Your mother may have defected because of the Fulcrum, but she never planned on staying on the U.S.’s side. The Silkorsky Archive contained numerous KGB operations dealing with undercover agents across the globe. Your mother wanted to enact these initiatives once she had made a name for herself as a law-abiding citizen in the States, going as far as to convince her former employer that she had turned on them. When Dom, Ilya, and I discovered this, we knew we had to take her out.”

As desperately as she desired the whole truth, the threads spun faster than she was able to keep up with. She craved Ressler’s presence – surely if he were here, he could discern the reality of this madness. Taking another deep breath to ground herself, she redirected her attention back to her main mission.

“I do want to know all of this, really, but I can’t help but circle back to the Archive. If Reddington didn’t have it when she killed him, then who did?”

Silence befell them like the drop of a curtain against a wooden floor, the resounding dust particles clouding their judgement.

“You.”

Liz labored to contain her tears, her voice struggling to remain level as she spoke.

“What?”

“Reddington hid it with you. His last hope was that she would not hurt you. When Mr. Kaplan left you with Sam, Sam handed me the Archive. I should have burned it then, but I held onto it, thinking that perhaps it could have some use in the future. This proved to be a vital error. Dembe and I embedded the microchip into one of your father’s bones. Mr. Kaplan and I went to war not over the bones, Elizabeth, but because of the Archive. When I burned the bones, I also destroyed the Archive.”

Liz took a deep breath, her expression porcelain.

“So why not tell her it’s destroyed?”

Reddington’s gaze was dark as the pit.

“Because then she wouldn’t hesitate to kill any of us. The only reason she is engaging with you now is because she thinks that you know where the Archive is. If she discovered that it was destroyed, she would not hesitate to kill you and Agnes.”

Liz’s anger boomed. She stood up abruptly, her stool sliding eerily against the tiled floor.

“How do I know any of this is even true!? How do I know you’re not just saying this to keep me on your side!? How can I even trust you!?”

Dembe stepped forward from behind Reddington, his voice soothing.

“It’s not a lie, Elizabeth.”

Liz deflated, sinking down onto her stool. As much as she doubted Reddington’s testimony, she knew that Dembe would never willingly lie to her. If he confirmed the man’s story, then God help them all. Time trickled by like molasses – languid and precious.

“So, what do we do now?” Liz asked, her voice bland.

“I think it’s time we end this once and for all.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Ressler grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for your lovely comments and engagement with this story!! There is genuinely nothing that makes me happier than seeing all of your reviews!!! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and if you want to chat about this story in further depth, or just about the blacklist at all, you can find me over on tumblr at cesraeborgia. Enjoy!!!

A single lamp illuminated Liz’s living room, her face semi-shrouded in a shadow of red wine. A sharp ring roused her from her glass, the plum-flavored liquid marring her bottom lip. She jerked towards the phone, fumbling with the passcode as she answered the call.

“Hello?” she answered, voice seeped in trepidation.

“Elizabeth,” Reddington answered.

Her stomach plummeted; her heart grew cold.

“Yes?”

For a moment, the only thing she could hear was his heavy intake of breath.

Then: “we’re in the endgame now. You know what you have to do.”

She swallowed thickly, tears welling. She hung up abruptly, subconsciously dialing another number whilst her gaze remained fixed on the half-empty wine bottle before her. She sat in decadent solitude, preening her nerves for the oncoming storm. From the moment she arrived home from the restaurant earlier that evening, she found herself in deep agony with no balm to still her. Perhaps this path would be the one thing to provide her even the illusion of complacency.

After all, there was only one presence which soothed her.

Of all the secrets she became suddenly privy to this morning, only one remained locked deep within herself.

By the time Ressler arrived, his spare key jingling her double locks, she was poised on the left side of her loveseat, head held in hands.

“Liz?” he called, his voice slightly raised in concern.

She sat up straight, nearly leaping to her feet to greet him. His gaze softened as he rounded the corner, content to see her unharmed.

“Is everything okay? I came as soon as I got your message.”

She started to move toward him, before cutting her steps off to hesitantly hover a few feet away. She appeared intrinsically divided – her desires appearing before her on the other side of a great chasm. How difficult, she wondered, would it be to jump?

“Yes,” she replied, her voice deep with tension. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

At his incensed worry, her words stumbled out in a rush: “it’s nothing bad, believe me.”

He raised a lone eyebrow, his visage broadening in mischief as he relaxed. He took a cocky step forward, a slight smirk gracing his lips.

“So, what was so important that it couldn’t wait for the workday tomorrow? Did Reddington decide to expand his restaurant empire? Or, don’t tell me Dembe bought him out?”

Normally his remarks would elicit some sort of reaction from Liz, but all she could do was stare. She gaped, her mouth resembling that of a land-locked fish. She seemed agitated to him, yearning for some sort of landline. She seemed incapable of speech, her words lingering on her tongue.

“I –”

She shut her mouth immediately. Suddenly a different type of tension infiltrated the room, filling them both up like a bubble about to burst. They appeared suspended then – two acrobats frozen in midair.

She surged forward, gasping loudly as she did so, and captured his lips with her own.

He stilled, his arms flattening against her side before clutching her waist with renewed fervor. Her tongue battled his lower lip, irrational in its pursuit. They broke apart once they ran out of air, chests heaving as their eyes ravaged each other.

“I love you,” she blurted, gaze earnest. “I really do.”

He closed the distance between them again, his lips achingly brushing hers.

“I love you too.”

They kissed for hours, their bodies illuminated in the moonglow. Flames of passion blinded them to the darkness creeping within. The terrors awaiting their demise stayed by their union. When they finally pulled away, his arm low around her waist, she could not help but beam at him.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” he began, a boyish smile gracing his features, “but what brought this on now?”

Liz’s felicity deflated from her like a punctured balloon, the iridescent glow draining from her eyes.

“I spoke to Reddington today,” she began, her eyes watering. “It’s ending tomorrow. I just couldn’t have lived tonight with the thought that I could die tomorrow, and you would never have known how I felt.”

Her voice broke on the last word and Ressler opened his arms to her, ensnaring her in his warm embrace. He rubbed giant circles along her back whilst crooning in her ear. Liz clutched to him like a moth to a flame – inevitably drawn to his light and warmth.

“You’re not going to die tomorrow, Liz,” he cooed, his voice as smooth as honey.

She began to shake her head vehemently, and he pulled her back so she could look him in the eye.

“Hey, you’re not going to die tomorrow, Liz.”

He spoke with such conviction that she almost believed him. She bit her bottom lip, sniffling quietly as she softly nodded. She tried to smile up at him but was afraid it appeared hollow. He seemed oblivious to her worry, however, and dropped a delicate kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering in prayer. In that moment she felt like a god. He stepped away; his body angled towards the door.

“I guess I should get going then. I definitely don’t want to lose sleep tonight.”

“No!” she said, her voice raised. She leaned forward to clutch his right wrist.

“Stay.”

At the softening of his eyes, she added: “I don’t think I can be alone tonight.”

They climbed into bed, their arms an extension of one another.

Finger pads ran along her tingling shoulder – surely if he were fire she would melt. Yet, Ressler was reason, his calculating blue eyes an oasis, his assuaging voice liquid light. How desperately she could drink him up, straining her neck until nothing but shallow waters remained. She, on the other hand, was charred earth, condemned to darkness with a small handful of seed. Perhaps he could be the one to salve her burns.

How she longed to live in the light.

“I can’t help but have this horrible feeling,” Liz said, her breath hitched.

Ressler ran his lips along her shoulder blade, his right arm tightening around her waist as he pulled her closer. She could not help but to relax into the sensation, her angst releasing in a small huff. His mouth chased the crook of her neck, and she melted into his touch.

“Whatever happens tomorrow, at least we have each other,” he said eventually, his voice low in the still night.

Her eyes lidded shut, shoulders slumping as Ressler cocooned around her.

"I love you,” she admitted, her voice a ghost in the space between them.

“I love you too.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Ressler arrive to the Post Office to find the game in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone!! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!! No lie I am very stressed about this new season, and I genuinely feel like my anxiety is going to peak due to the blurbs that are currently out. That being said, I hope this provides you with an enjoyable interlude from the disaster world we live in. Please review!!! Enjoy!!

Liz woke to the screaming sun.

She blinked heavily, squinting against the force of the glare. Ressler’s forearm flexed against her stomach and she smirked in deep content. After Tom she never thought she would taste the sweet sensation of morning glow in the arms of someone who loved her. Even after all this time, she still struggled to believe that she could ever be content again. This place, however, was safe: swaddled tightly but gently in the strong arms of a man who would follow her – had followed her – anywhere.

The man in question stirred, and she stretched her legs beside him, flexing her toes in the warm light. She dipped down to kiss him slowly, and as she pulled back his eyes opened listlessly.

“What a way to be woken up,” he teased, his voice husky from sleep.

Her smirk deepened.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that after we deal with my mother, I’m afraid. As much as I’d rather lie here with you, we both know that Reddington doesn’t wait.”

He groaned dramatically in response, tightening his arm around her waist. She shivered, eliciting a smirk from Ressler, who kissed her slowly. She smiled against his lips, running her hands through his hair. How Liz longed to stay here! She could hardly bear the thought of what they were about to do. Some primal instinct within her yearned to drag them both under the covers and wait out the inevitable storm. From the moment Ressler arrived the night before, she could not help but have this horrid sense of foreboding.

“You’ll be over tonight?” she asked, her voice wavering.

Ressler kissed her shoulder, tufts of hair tickling her chin.

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

-

The drive to the Post Office was serene. The weather was exquisite: a breath of spring in late winter. Liz smiled to herself as she looked out the passenger window, lost in thoughts of cherry blossom trees.

She hoped she could make it to spring.

Beside her, Ressler hummed along softly to some pop song on the radio. If it weren’t for the dread churning deep within her stomach, she could almost chalk this interlude up to normal. Yet, if there were one thing her mother had taught her, it seemed, it was to never become swayed by complacency.

They pulled into the parking garage and Ressler parked the car, the pair getting out and walking towards the elevator in synch, their shoulders a mere inch apart. Though Ressler tried to emit an aura of confidence, it seemed as though he could sense the impending danger as well – throughout their morning briefing, he stood close to Liz, his right hand hovering alongside her waist. Park narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the pair, discerning a new nuance to their relationship which seemed to go over Aram’s head. Liz kept her expression neutral – she wanted to bask in the novelty of his gaze for a little longer. Liz’s stomach churned as she fought to keep the bile rising in her throat at bay whilst she listened to Cooper’s report.

Halfway through the meeting, they were interrupted.

“Harold!” Reddington boomed, waltzing into the war room like a prime puppet master, preparing to conduct their every sway. “I have recently come across some information that I’m sure upon would be delighted to hear about.”

If Cooper seemed taken aback by Reddington’s blatant entrance, he recovered quickly.

“By all means, go on.”

“I have reasonable intel that has led me to believe that Katerina is planning on making a move for the Silkorsky Archive tonight.”

Ressler furrowed his brow, feigning confusion.

“What is the Silkorsky Archive?”

Reddington grinned slyly, his eyes sparkling at the charade.

“It’s a file that contains pertinent information on former KGB undercover operations. Katerina believes that the Archive contains information she can use to clear her name.”

Liz pursed her lips at his lie in a half-hearted attempt to quell the guilt bubbling within her. Even now it seemed she still kept secrets from Ressler. Old habits die hard.

“Where is this file?” Cooper asked.

Reddington waved his hand dismissively.

“The location of the Archive is irrelevant. What is imperative, however, is that she is led to believe that it is at my warehouse.”

Long accustomed to Reddington’s vagueness, Cooper just sighed.

“How do you propose we do this?”

Reddington practically beamed.

“Harold, I thought you would never ask! Her agents have been monitoring my warehouse for weeks. I propose that we increase movement by my warehouse, which should catch her eye. Now, Katerina is no fool – she should suspect that we are up to something. My associates have also identified one of her supply facilities in Northeast, which is where another party will be monitoring her movements. I have credible intel that this particular facility contains much of her transportation within the city, in addition to housing other illustrious objects pertaining to her no doubt nefarious plans.”

Cooper nodded resolutely.

Ressler, ever the cynic, regarded Reddington with a critical eye.

“Simple as that?”

Reddington laughed boisterously.

“My dear Donald, you should know by now that nothing is ever truly “as simple as that.” Clearly you have no knowledge of basic middle school vocabulary if you are questioning whether something nefarious can be classified as simple.”

Ressler glared at him, his eyes challenging.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Enough, Agent Ressler,” Cooper interjected. “We have a plan, and that is enough for now. Aram, Park, go patrol the warehouse and keep an eye out for any of Katerina’s scouts. Ressler, Keen, you’re on the supply center.”

“Agent Keen is coming with me,” Reddington piped up, his grin smug. “I need her delightful presence for a quick business venture. I would ask for Agent Ressler’s time as well, but clearly, he needs to revisit literary criticism. I do so recommend Sir James George Fraser – hopefully you can find his work on Persephone illuminating.”

Cooper sighed deeply, and Ressler rolled his eyes.

“Fine. When you get back, we’ll all rendezvous in my office.”

The four agents nodded before disembarking.

Liz followed Ressler into their shared office to grab her coat and was pleasantly surprised when he shut the door behind them.

“Paining hooky from English class?” she asked, her brow quirked.

He flashed her a fiendish grin and looped his arm around her waist.

“Can’t really do this in front of them,” he said, his voice low as his right hand flexed against the small of her back, deliberately ignoring her quip.

He kissed her profoundly, his hands roaming her side. When he pulled away she was lightheaded, a euphoric giggle escaping her lips.

“If this what is what it means to share an office, then God I could get used to this.”

He laughed deeply, his baritone sending her skin crawling as they broke apart.

“We’ll have to test that theory when we get back,” he drawled, slinging his coat around his shoulders.

Liz smiled coyly, twirling her scarf around her neck as she opened the door.

“I’ll see you later, mister.”

She walked to meet Reddington with a slight spring in her step, and he stared at her knowingly.

“Don’t say a word,” she growled.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Reddington scheme. Things remain hazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience in waiting for this chapter! Long story short, I had another depressive episode (fun, right?) which put me severely behind. You should be happy to hear, however, that the next four chapters are finished, with only the last one to go after that. I have really enjoyed writing this story, and am really proud of myself for actually being able to write a full multi-chapter story, even if the chapters aren't as long as I want them to be. I want to thank you all again for your continued support and I hope you enjoy!! Please review!! I love reading them :))

The ride to the restaurant was quick and painless. Much of the it was passed by Reddington’s low humming to the radio as Chopin played, a dazed smile gracing his features. It struck her then how mystical he truly was; he seemed to her an immortal, archaic gem glistening amongst a pit of chaos and destruction. As the trio approached the front of the building, Liz could not help but chuckle.

“I can’t believe you’re doing business in the back of a restaurant,” she began, shaking her head in amusement. “When I first met you, you would waltz from penthouse to penthouse; now, you’re operating from the back of a restaurant, much like a money laundering scheme.”

Reddington regarded her with disbelief, his eyes comically wide.

“Lizzy, if you find my investments entertaining then you have placed your foot in your mouth. There is nothing I romanticize more than being on the run – keeping one center of operations would spoil the image. As for your frankly thinly veiled insult about money laundering, you should be aware that two to five percent of the world’s GDP is laundered; I would deem that a rather lucrative business. Secondly, if you are going to use stereotypes, at least be somewhat accurate: although Hollywood has given Chinese restaurants a bad rap, you will most certainly find most money laundering to originate in the back of local convenience stores.”

He paused, scoffing at her bemusement.

“Honestly, what does the FBI even teach you all now adays? I’m aghast. All that internalized racism seems to have pointed your noses in all the wrong direction.”

She rolled her eyes, ducking her head as she obediently followed him into the kitchen.

“Now that you’re done with your little tirade,” Liz began, her lips taut. “I hope you’re ready to fill me in on what it is we’re actually doing here.”

Reddington reclined against the counter, his visage smug.

“Not until you tell me all about your evening with our dear, dashing Donald.”

Annoyance flooded Liz in tenacious waves. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth in an effort to bite back a retort, her right fingers digging into her palm.

“I might feel obliged to give you something if you would give me anything in return.”

Behind Reddington, Dembe raised an impressed eyebrow, a small smile gracing his features.

“Elizabeth does have a point, Raymond.”

Reddington sighed dramatically, his shoulders slumping in mock defeat.

“I suppose that is a fair enough trade, but yet again, we know very little about dear Donald outside of the pretentious, morally-uptight agent role he cast himself in. Tell me Lizzy, does he enjoy chess? I’ve always pegged him to be a chess type of boy. Even if he completely misunderstands the strategy behind his opponent’s moves.”

Dembe chuckled lightly, his voice melodious.

“Surely, you must know that Agent Ressler plays poker.”

Reddington appeared elated.

“My man, you may be right!”

Though she kept a pleasant façade, Liz internally bristled.

“Enough already, are either of you going to actually tell me what’s going on here? Or am I going to have to call Glen to get it out of you.”

“Oh Lizzy, you must have no idea how much of a hassle Glen is to deal with. Otherwise you never would have suggested such a preposterous proposition. At this rate you are better off torturing us yourselves.”

Liz gave him a pointed look, her eyes twinkling in amusement.

Reddington cleared his throat, his tone turning serious.

“Well, in that case, I guess we must truly move on. Dembe, if you would.”

Dembe approached the island and laid a blueprint of the warehouse upon the table, his right hand smoothing the wrinkled paper over in crinkling waves.

“Now,” Reddington began, his left hand shifting his fedora. “This is a blueprint of Katerina’s current headquarters, albeit, an incomplete one. We have labored tirelessly to infiltrate my agents, however, given your mother’s rightful paranoia, I have only been able to successfully indoctrinate one man. This delightful drawing before us is his representation of the building.”

Reddington paused, pursing his lips as he regarded the blueprints from a new angle.

“I must say I don’t know what Alphonso was thinking, Dembe. This entire piece lacks overarching vision.”

“I thought I heard Alphonso say that he liked modern art,” Dembe quipped, his mouth curving into a playful smile.

Reddington appeared astounded.

“Heavens, it all makes sense now.”

Liz fought hard to suppress her laughter, her nostrils flaring in genuine glee.

“If he works for you, he can’t be a real artist.”

Reddington looked aghast.

“By Jove, Lizzy!” he replied. “Everyone in my employ is an artist in some form or another. After all, art is in the eye of the beholder.”

Although Liz laughed, she could not help but fixate on his turn of phrase. Reddington infuriated her still; why he insisted on speaking in absurd riddles, she had no idea. This wicked match of secrecy took a toll on her. She could not wait for it all to be over.

“That may be true,” Liz conceded, her hands raised, “but it still doesn’t answer my question concerning our attack plan.”

Redington’s countenance turned serious.

“Of course. Considering your mother’s nature, I believe that it is in both of our best interests to force her hand. She has always been considerably sloppy when provoked, and I think that a good old Texas showdown should do the trick.”

Liz gulped, her brow quirking in doubt.

“You really think that forcing her hand is the smartest move? How do we know she won’t be too reckless?”

Reddington considered her as though he were truly seeing her for the first time.

“We don’t, which is why the task force will be joining us.”

Liz’s eyes widened in surprise – in all her years working with Reddington, he rarely engaged with, much less cooperated with, the task force in a case of this magnitude. Reddington’s visage darkened, his eyes gray. A silent conversation passed between them, one in which Reddington articulated his trust in Liz without a single breath.

Liz nodded her mouth dry. The air around her seemed electric.

“I understand.”

Reddington smiled broadly, clapping his hands together in faux excitement.

“Good!” he exclaimed. “I’m glad we finally understand one another.”

A few hours passed as they went over their plans; outside, the sky darkened as thunderous storm clouds rolled in from the west. Liz shivered in anticipation of the rain, grabbing her coat as she stood to leave.

“Thank you for this,” she said sincerely, her voice low.

Reddington nodded slowly, his gaze turning to Dembe as he did so.

“It’s time to go, I’m afraid. We’ll see you shortly.”

Liz exited the restaurant the way she came and slid into the backseat of Dembe’s car without a word. The drive to the Post Office was spent in replete silence. Later, she would remember it as a harrowing interlude.

Aram and Park were already in Cooper’s office when she arrived. Aram greeted her warmly whilst Park nodded in her direction as she loosened her scarf.

Cooper frowned.

“Has anyone heard from Agent Ressler?”

They all shook their heads, and Liz could not fight the tendrils of panic firing through her brain.

Liz’s phone buzzed incessantly, diverting her attention from her debrief.

“Sorry, sir, let me just make sure that this isn’t Agnes’s school.”

Cooper nodded in understanding, and she turned towards the door, intending on checking device in private. She stopped dead in her tracks, however, once she saw who the notification was from.

“Agent Keen?” Cooper inquired, his tone concerned.

Liz bit her lip in a vain effort to quell her rage. Staring up at her was a text from her mother.

It was a picture of Ressler.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reckoning builds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a little mid election treat in honor of humanity hopefully prevailing!! I think we could all do with a little keenler right now. I hope you guys enjoy!! And please review!!! xx

Liz dialed the number with manic thumbs, her heart beating outside of her chest.

“What do you want?” she demanded, her voice a snarl.

“Now, that’s no way to treat your mother, is it?”

“I swear, if you touch him –”

Katerina cackled.

“You don’t seem to be in a position to make demands, do you?”

Silence echoed in droves – hollow and unyielding. Panic crested within her chest, surmounting in an immutable tsunami. She was vaguely aware of a voice in the distance; however, the sound was swallowed by the crescendo of the waves around her. She was drowning in panic, each feeble kick of her legs only succeeding in further plummeting her down.

She hung up abruptly, her left hand folding into a fist.

“Agent Keen?”

The voice briefly jostled her from her panic, and she turned to look to its source with brazen eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

She seemed to be able to identify the voice as Cooper’s now, a sob rising in her throat as she fought to form the words.

“It’s Ressler, sir,” she blurted. “My mother has him.”

Cooper paled. Unease draped about his shoulders like a cloak. The momentary weakness went unnoticed by everyone but Liz; within seconds he was in command again.

“I assume she has terms.”

Liz nodded pathetically, the surrounding background noise seeming as though it were submerged.

“She’ll only give him up if we give her Reddington.”

Cooper set his lips in a firm line and huffed in annoyance.

“I was afraid she would say that. Where is Reddington now?”

Liz could not think – it was as though her thoughts had melted into a puddle at her feet. She was outside her body now, witnessing the events around her on a kaleidoscopic frequency. She wondered if this is what death felt like – perhaps Ressler was too quick to comfort her the night before.

“Elizabeth!” Cooper snapped, warranting her full attention.

She started in response, gluing her gaze to his.

“I understand that this is emotional for you – it’s emotional for all of us – but that doesn’t mean you can let it consume you. I cannot have you going rogue right now. We need a plan.”

Liz nodded, adrenaline pumping through her.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you think you can do this?”

She inhaled deeply, setting her face in stone.

“I’ve never thought that I could do anything more.”

Cooper seemed to accept the truth in her answer and turned to Aram and Park. The pair looked her over in pity, yet, their own worry was abundantly clear.

“Where’s Reddington?”

Liz cleared her throat.

“He’s with Dembe at the restaurant.”

Her words sounded choked to her own ears.

Cooper raised his chin, narrowing his eyes in precision.

“Get him on the phone.”

Reddington picked up on the third ring.

“We have a problem,” Cooper said, his hand rising to the bridge of his nose.

_Problem._ The word seemed inadequate to Liz. Problems implied solutions. She trembled to think of what would happen to her if she could not solve this one.

“Well,” Reddington sassed, his tone flippant. “I don’t have all day, Harold.”

“Rostova has Agent Ressler. She contacted Agent Keen to negotiate a hand-off.”

For once, Reddington was quiet. His heavy breaths penetrated the room.

“I see,” he mused. “I assume she wants me.”

Cooper’s silence spoke volumes.

Reddington sighed heavily.

“Very well, then.”

Reddington was cut off by a slight scuffling noise, his voice obscured as he presumably spoke to Dembe in the background. When he spoke again it was directed at the task force.

“This certainly throws a wrench in our plans, though not necessarily an unwelcome one,” he began cryptically. “Elizabeth, I assumed you set up a time?”

Liz cleared her throat, blinking rapidly in a valiant effort to place her surroundings.

“I did,” she confirmed, her voice strong. “It’s set for two hours from now.”

Reddington paused, his voice lowering.

“I assume you are on speaker phone, Lizzy. I want to speak to you for a second.”

Liz’s frustration at her helplessness peaked – a vile, prickly vine snaking its way through her protective walls.

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say here,” she snapped, her tone taut.

“Elizabeth –”

“I mean it, Red,” she gritted out.

“You need to be prepared for the prospect that Donald might not be in the same condition as you saw him this morning –”

Liz slammed her fist on Cooper’s death, her body shaking with inconceivable rage. She appeared haunted – if one peered into her eyes, surely one would see glimmers of a similar harrowing night from a few years before.

She had lost herself then.

She could not bear to lose herself again.

“Don’t you think I know that!?” she yelled, her breath heaving. “Stop coddling me like I’m my grandfather’s china. I can handle it.”

The lie was obvious, even to her own ears.

She huffed, storming out of the office to the war room below. She vaguely registered the sound of the door slamming behind her, the bang vibrating her spinal cord. She tucked herself into a vacant corner beneath the stairs, shrouding herself in the shadows. Her nails made quick work of the scar on her wrist; blood trickled down her forearm in welcome strands. She focused on the warmth, watching with morbid fascination as it stained her skin. It became easier, then, to fold in upon herself like a deformed envelope, sealing the agony within her in a single stroke. When she was finished, she started towards the kitchenette to wipe up her arm but retreated further into the darkness at the sound of her name.

“That can’t be considered professional, can it?” Park asked. “What she did in there.”

Liz remained quiet, her blue eyes flickering in the shadows.

“No,” Aram conceded. “But she’s been through a lot.”

Park skidded to a halt, her arm clutching Aram’s.

“So have the rest of us.”

“Agent Keen tends to be a little unhinged when it comes to the people she loves.”

Park scoffed, her arms crossing in disbelief as she resumed walking, Aram following her lead.

“It’s obvious she cares for him, he’s her partner. But love? Seriously? I…”

The pair moved out of ear shot, and Liz emerged from the darkness to grab the first aid kit, her breaths coming in short gasps.

Liz felt intrinsically cold, her mind frozen as she bound her wrist.

“I’m coming, Ress,” she whispered, her voice fire.

“I’ll never let that bitch touch you again.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The task force closes in on Katerina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! I hope you guys enjoy the next chapter!!!! Please review :))

They drove along the same route she had taken that morning – no thoughts of cherry blossoms could comfort her now. The scenery around her felt inherently blurred – maybe if she could blink, she could discern the nuances of green around her, slow, weak proof that spoke of spring.

The world remained ashen, devoid of all color and sound.

The drive ended almost as abruptly as it began. Liz felt transfixed in a dazed stupor – all she could remember was the feeling of utter helplessness consuming her as Tom bled out in front of her and Tom, and blood, and –

She was jolted back to her senses by the sound of the passenger door slamming. She quickly shook her head, adrenaline pumping. It would not do for her to lose herself quite yet. Bits of half-strewn scenes flew before her – how she wound up next to Reddington she did not know, the feeling of nails digging into the bandages on her palms was the only thing that tethered her to the present. What-ifs and should-haves ran rampant – she had always been a fantastical girl she supposed, even now, her mind conjuring glimpses of a grotesque future devoid of Ressler.

She was a junkie, intrinsically hooked on half-truths.

It struck her suddenly, as she stood amidst her colleagues, orders flying, that she was not sure when he became such a crucial part of her narrative. She seemed utterly incapable of defining herself, a gaping vacancy swallowing half of her whole.

In the haze of her revelations she hardly registered Reddington’s movements in the shadows; his team silently making their way to the left entrance of the warehouse before them, slipping softly away into the depths of twilight just as back-up arrived on the scene.

If it were not for Ressler’s fate, perhaps she would have followed Reddington. While Katerina lived, Liz could not it seemed. Yet, Liz’s heart screamed for someone else, it’s raging beat a silenced siren’s call.

Vengeance, dark and powerful, consumed her.

It would take one match to show them how to burn.

Cooper cut through her musings, his voice taut.

“Right, we’re going to have to split up if we want to find both Rostova and Agent Ressler alive.”

His usage of alive echoed in her mind, the aftershocks leaving her reeling.

Cooper gestured to the alpha team positioned on his right, his next phrase directed to them.

“MacDonald, your team is with me. We’ll flank the right entrance. I want every ear listening for any whisper of Rostova’s movements.”

He paused, his eyes briefly meeting Liz’s. She exchanged a silent nod of gratitude, her eyes flickering to the center door. In the haze of her memory she recalled that the center door led to a block of interrogation cells. Or was it the right?

“Park, you and the bravo team will follow Aram and Keen through the central door. If our blueprints are correct, there should be more than enough area for both teams to cover.”

Cooper inhaled, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. To anyone else, he appeared clam. To those who knew him best, he appeared imploring.

“At any sign of Agent Ressler, immediately radio for medical.”

Liz wanted to scream at him for stating the obvious, rage consuming her like a vengeful goddess. Darkness crowned her as she stood stagnant in the shadows, its blacken tendrils weaving though her hair. In that moment she seemed every inch a queen Grimm.

Cooper must have discerned her mood, for his gaze was placating; his voice soft, yet firm when he spoke again.

“Good luck.”

Liz ducked behind Aram as their team followed Park to the middle door, her heart divided between containing her mother and finding Ressler. The approach seemed interminable; the yards stretched before her like a tumultuous ocean – surely if they breached the door they would drown.

She was unsure if she could remember how to swim.

They moved on in relative silence, the sound of their footsteps resounding in the hollow chamber.

She was suddenly stopped by a loud groan, her heart shattering with revelation. She froze, her eyes widening in horror. Park nodded in understanding, her voice commanding.

“Aram, go with Keen. I’ll keep my eyes out for Reddington and Katerina.”

The two splintered off from the group, a small handful of agents following them as they bust into the adjacent room. The doorway revealed another wing of the warehouse, and Liz stomped her foot.

“God damnit!” she cried out in frustration.

Taking control, Aram ordered the rest of the agents about.

“Split up into groups of two. We’re not leaving here until every single one of these rooms has been searched for Agent Ressler. Liz, you’re with me.”

Liz nodded curtly, her mind whirling. What-ifs and should-haves commandeered her thoughts. She struggled to stay afloat; she felt like the tiniest lifeboat rocking against the tumultuous sea; one wrong move and surely she would fall over the side.

Aram kept looking over at her, his brow furrowed in contemplation. His reticence did nothing to help her nerves; she felt her anxiety crescendo, the final movement leaving her knees quivering in despair.

Suddenly, Aram held his arm up, his countenance focused.

“Shh, did you hear that?”

Liz bit back on her tongue, the flaring pain taming her panic into submission.

“What?”

“Shh,” Aram insisted, his fingers mimicking a snapping motion.

After a long moment, a low, but still audible groan echoed from a few feet in front of them.

“Do you think…” Aram began, but Liz was long gone, her ponytail flailing behind her as she approached the green iron door.

She threw her body against its weight, her expression desolate as the door failed to budge.

“Liz, wait!” Aram called, and she reluctantly stepped back as he approached the lock. After a moment of fumbling, the lock came undone with a victorious clink. 

The door flung open, and she let out a strangled sob at the sight.

“Aram, I can’t!” she cried, her vision blurry. “Oh, God.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ressler struggles for survival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry guys!! I genuinely did not mean to make you wait this long at all!!!! I'm currently drowning in deadlines and this is the first time in weeks I've had a spare moment to update. Rest assured - the last few chapters should be up soon. Also, I have not watched any of the new season yet (as if I did, I would not get my deadlines done). Please help a sister out and don't spoil anything for me in the comments!! I can assure you that once I do catch up, I will probably be posting some oneshots. I hope you guys enjoy!! And as always, please review xoxo

_Earlier_

As Ressler came to awareness the only thing he could focus on was the trickling sensation between his toes – dampness struck a deep chord within him and he could not help but shiver at the sound.

He blinked languidly, his head subconsciously raising as he struggled to breach consciousness.

“He wakes,” a woman’s voice called.

Puzzled as he was, Ressler could not help but recognize that voice. He groaned, desperately entreating his brain to lull him back into a purgatory form of slumber.

“Not so fast,” the voice said with an almost fond tone. “You are much cleverer than I had originally thought.”

He became vaguely aware of a woman looming over him, her gaze serpentine.

“So, you’re what my daughter has to show for herself,” the woman taunted. “Some morally sound, uptight, FBI poster boy. It’s a pity – I quite liked her last husband.”

Realization dawned on him at the word daughter, and he opened his eyes to meet her eyes.

“Katerina Rostova,” he murmured. “Look at you.”

She practically purred in response.

“The poster boy speaks. Not for long.”

He chuckled humorlessly, the ghost of a smirk flickering across his face.

“I take this is no social call.”

Katerina’s smile was practically Cheshire, her cunning hazel eyes aflame.

“You seem to have a sense of humor,” she began, her chin raised as she contemplated him. “What a shame, really. I typically quite like the funny guy.”

Ressler could not stop himself – the retort was out in an instant.

“I can see why you fell for Reddington then; he thinks he’s awfully funny.”

In a flash, Ressler felt the impact of her fist against his left cheek. Pain flared within him in droves; he bit down on his tongue to silence his groan. Cold-fingered dread crept up his spine as Katerina patted his cheek, a lethal smile darkening her features.

“Now you look like all the men I know – arrogant and incapable of drawing the line.”

Ressler fought to keep from swallowing the blood trickling between his teeth, his jaw clenched in agony. He suppressed his urge to flinch as Katerina leaned closer in, her breath dangerous against his ear.

“Now,” she began, her voice breathy. “You’re going to tell me all about the little plan that you and my daughter have concocted, as well as Reddington’s role in it.”

He shook his head vehemently, wincing in pain as his cheek throbbed.

“I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”

Katerina’s smile turned sinister, her chin raised in morbid satisfaction.

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear boy, for you’re in my hands now. And if there’s one thing we know about Elizabeth, it’s that she’d do anything to save the people she loves. Including turning herself in.”

Ressler began to squirm, his throat constricting in panic.

“You wouldn’t – ”

“What makes you say that?” she interjected.

She slowly backed away from him, turning on her heel as she headed towards the door.

“Knowing my daughter, she’ll practically beg me to let you go. What a shame, really. No rightful Rostova breaks for any man.”

She paused her pursuit to throw a haphazard glance at him, raising her chin in disdain as she started forward again.

“But for that to work, we’re going to have to rough you up a little first.”

Ressler opened his mouth to speak, but his pleas were drowned by her laughter as she swung the door open, her expression one of pure glee. Four men walked into the room behind her, all of them regarding him eagerly.

“I don’t want to be able to recognize him when you’re done with him,” Katerina commanded. “Keep him alive, for now. Let’s see how long it takes to draw her out.”

She slammed the door behind her, and all Ressler could hear was a loud ringing once the men descended upon him.

The first one struck him in the ribs, a sickening crack resounding in the concrete room at the impact. Still, he held his tongue, resolving silent to refrain from eliciting any reaction. The second man approached and slashed his arm, the cut superficial, yet blinding. The third man approached and punched his jaw, blood filling his mouth in a grotesque fashion. Finally, the fourth man approached him, sliding a dagger into his right bicep. 

He erupted almost immediately in pain before suddenly feeling nothing at all.

-

Deep-seeded pain consumed him, his mind betraying him with hallucinations of Liz, her lips tasting like ripe pomegranates. Oh, how he could survive in the in-between! Here, Liz was everywhere – she both walked with him and laid with him. He felt as though he would remember her imprint long after he had forgotten his own name. She was a piece of him, he supposed – their souls inextricable. Even in death he was sure she would be beside him – even if only for half of the time.

Eventually – though perhaps it did not happen at all; memory is such a fickle creature – the men returned, he was almost sure he could feel the sigh of a knife as it slid between his ribs, briefly brushing his lung before deciding against puncturing the supple pink flesh.

If only he were to remember that this hesitation was what ensured his survival in the end.

-

He was unaware of how long he laid there – time seemed to him static. All he could focus on was the lingering glow of light.

“Ress?” a woman’s voice called out eventually, her voice drifting nearer.

Red stained his eyes, black dots swarming his vision. He felt intrinsically cold, the back of his head innately aware of the concrete beneath him. All he could think about was the darkness descending upon him, slowly clawing its way to victory.

“Ress!?” he heard again, though this time much more panicked.

The whites of his eyes were dreamy, a dazed smile toying at his lips.

“Liz,” he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

Time seemed stagnant then, the finite particles around him suspended in obscurity. Thick humidity weighed upon his chest and his gasps grew louder as he struggled to breathe. He thought he could hear Audrey’s voice in the distant heat imploring him to stay.

“Ress!?” he heard again; the voice manic.

He became faintly aware of another presence beside him, nimble fingers stroking the side of his face.

“Oh God,” she moaned, and in that instant her voice seemed eternal.

She pressed her right hand to his side, his blood drenching her palm. Ressler could feel her fingertips caressing his jaw, lulling him to sweet serenity. Deep in his conscious a piano played; the keys languid. How desperately he wished to stray near it. The light started to fade, the air becoming heavier around him. Bleak blackness came upon him like an old friend, and in the distance he thought he could hear Liz screaming.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz implodes, Ressler heals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooooo sorry guys at taking forever in getting this out!! I initially wanted this story to be completely updated by the time the new season came out, but my deadlines winded up getting the better of me. I'm only just catching up on the new season now, so hopefully I'll have some new stuff out soonish. I hope that you guys enjoy and please review!!!!

She sat in silence for the first few days with nothing but monotone beeps and a plastic green chair to keep her company.

She could hardly bear to glance at him – he was so pale. The loss of blood draining his typically warm cheeks beyond ashen. Death hovered between his eyelashes and yet he breathed on – the doctor would not say how long it would be, for all she knew it could be a year.

The thought made her stomach retch, a sickening fuzziness coming up her throat. Is this how he felt, she wondered, when she laid in the same bed?

All she could see was red. Aram had scrubbed the blood off of her arms in the ER’s bathroom, tears choking her gaze as he gently wiped her wrists. She forgot how much blood flowed through a person’s veins, forgot how it caked the skin beneath one’s fingernails, forgot how it stained even the purest of fingers; forgot that fingers could even be pure. The sensation took her to seventeen again and jarringly awake in a surgeon’s chair, his hands drenched in thick red as he retracted them from her throbbing mouth, wisdom teeth in hand.

Helplessness gnawed at her incessantly, inexorable in its pursuit of anguish. Agony struck her in ten-foot waves, pulsating through her skin till nothing but bone remained.

Time seemed interminable, seconds listlessly passing on in palpable sand, Ressler’s life an hourglass slipping between her fingers, balancing in her palm. How easy it would be for the glass to shatter.

Sleep claimed her reluctantly, her cheek pressed carelessly to his right hand, her dark lips staining his sheets red.

-

Pink-fingered dawn splayed across the sterile room, illuminating them in a rosy haze. She stirred slowly, her neck screeching in protest. A tweed-trimmed fedora flashed in the corner of her eye, but upon rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she was surprised to see Aram instead.

She called out his name, her voice groggy with exhaustion.

He opened his mouth, long-winded apologies cascading from his tongue. His tone was garrulous, his voice expanding as it filled the room. She could not think, could not feel. Her eyes darted about the room, desperately seeking a lifeline among the objects it contained. Finally, she focused on the crack situated two inches above the doorframe, her breathing evening out as she bored into it.

“He was devastated when you woke up, I hope you don’t leave him alone again.”

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Seconds trickled by miserably, her breath latched in her throat. Noise crowded her, a low buzzing setting her temples aflame. Guilt consumed her, fiery tendrils weaving through her hair.

“I’m sorry but can you be quiet for a minute!?” she blurted, her eyes inconceivably wide.

The air surrounding her choked her, a thick, pulsating noise draining her ears. Somewhere in the distance she thought she heard Aram speak.

“I’m so sorry Liz, I didn’t mean – ”

“You didn’t mean what?” she roared, ire rearing its heinous head. “You didn’t mean that I cared for him? You didn’t mean that he was the eye to my hurricane? The Elysian to my Hell?”

Her eyes flashed dangerously, blue bordering black as she toiled to maintain her composure. She rocked back suddenly, throat convulsing in sporadic laughter.

“I thought you would have known Aram. After all, you seemed so invested after my annulment. And even then, you said so yourself when you told Park all about how unhinged I really am.”

Almost immediately his chin dropped, his countenance resembling that of a kicked dog. She might have regretted her words if the circumstances were different, yet a glance at blonde hair strewn caustically across a pillow stayed her remorse. She was swollen with rage, red blurring the lines between them, her nails puncturing her palms. Blood slowly began to trickle between her fingers, staining her skin crimson.

“Enough, Elizabeth.”

She started, jerking her head to face Reddington, who stood in the doorway.

“Aram, I must apologize for Elizabeth’s insolence. It seems as though Persephone has her in her pomegranate throes. If you could excuse us for a moment.”

Aram nodded, his gaze remaining glued to the floor as he exited the room. Liz took this interlude to examine Reddington. His countenance was hollow. She had never seen him look so old – age clung to him like a loose thread, transient and tireless.

"Is it done?” she asked, her tone sharp.

His cheeks drained further – she could see the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

“That’s not what I’m here to discuss.”

Liz barked out a laugh.

“Well, it’s what I want to know. I can’t help but wonder if he would be lying in this bed right now if I had chosen her side.”

He suddenly grew cold, his eyes darkening. Liz understood then why they called him ruthless – surely with a single touch he could suck her soulless.

“Katerina would have killed Donald, Elizabeth. You were both a means to an end. She did not care for you, but, rather, for your ability to provide her with the answers she so desperately craved. Blood meant nothing to her; you would be wise to remember what she did to her own father, as well as what she did to your father.”

Admonished, Liz averted her gaze. When she spoke again, she had the decency to sound contrite.

“So, it is done?”

Behind Reddington, Dembe nodded sullenly, despondence clouding his features.

“I took no pleasure in it,” Reddington began, stepping forward to consider Ressler. “But it’s done now. May she finally rest in peace.”

Liz appeared troubled, her heart screaming for the man behind her. She slowly made her way towards him, her fingers caressing his cheek.

“It’s strange,” she murmured, her fingers traveling to his hair. “I thought I would grieve, but…”

Reddington nodded solemnly, his eyes shrouded in understanding.

“I know what it’s like to gain everything and lose it all in the space of a few fleeting moments.”

Liz looked up at him, her countenance intrigued.

“Now that she’s gone, will you finally tell me who you really are?”

Reddington smiled softly, twirling his fedora in hand.

“In time, Lizzy, in time.”


End file.
